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A review by bhnmt61
The Friend by Sigrid Nunez
5.0
Notes on re-reading at the end.
This is a strange book, and I can see how it wouldn’t be for everyone. Sometimes it seems like lists of random thoughts— and the narrator thinks about a lot of things. Death, art, writing, friendship, creativity, sexual harassment, grief, misogyny, solitude, teaching, students, suicide, and dogs-- specifically the dog she has inherited from her long-time friend and mentor after his suicide. I thought it was fascinating. If you’re wondering if the dog dies at the end, all I can say is that isn’t what the book is about. in fact, if you’re looking for a book about a dog, this probably isn’t it.
After re-reading: this book is brilliant. But it has a very specific audience, so won’t be for everyone. It’s much more about writing, and even more specifically, what it means to create literary art (if it means anything at all), than I remembered. And also it is more disturbing than I remembered. It inverts itself toward the end, which might be the most interesting part. She writes about so many things that it’s easy to lose sight of one of the overarching questions of the novel, why does she miss this guy so much? Why is she so torn up? Endlessly thought-provoking.
This is a strange book, and I can see how it wouldn’t be for everyone. Sometimes it seems like lists of random thoughts— and the narrator thinks about a lot of things. Death, art, writing, friendship, creativity, sexual harassment, grief, misogyny, solitude, teaching, students, suicide, and dogs-- specifically the dog she has inherited from her long-time friend and mentor after his suicide. I thought it was fascinating. If you’re wondering if the dog dies at the end, all I can say is that isn’t what the book is about. in fact, if you’re looking for a book about a dog, this probably isn’t it.
After re-reading: this book is brilliant. But it has a very specific audience, so won’t be for everyone. It’s much more about writing, and even more specifically, what it means to create literary art (if it means anything at all), than I remembered. And also it is more disturbing than I remembered. It inverts itself toward the end, which might be the most interesting part. She writes about so many things that it’s easy to lose sight of one of the overarching questions of the novel, why does she miss this guy so much? Why is she so torn up? Endlessly thought-provoking.